


柔らかい角

by choiminhovevo



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Mushishi
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mushishi AU, please beta for me my crops are dying my family is starving, who even betas in this economy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 03:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13138554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choiminhovevo/pseuds/choiminhovevo
Summary: Ignis the Mushi master visits the northern corner of Japan to seek the young man inflicted with horns.





	柔らかい角

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirakanjo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kirakanjo).



_ — _ _ On dark nights buffeted by snow, when all sound disappears, heed this portend: you must converse with someone, or take great heed to cover your ears, lest you want those ears to be devoured... _

 

騒音

 

Snow drifts slowly yet unceasingly down to the earth, blanketing the sleeping grass underneath a thick coat of frost. Despite his years of traveling throughout Japan and enduring nigh all forms of weather, Ignis must admit this snow is beyond his limits. His woolen cap is damp; snow piling on his head. He routinely shakes his cap to rid of, yet the ice crystals remain determined to stay. His boots were soaked through his socks, and his coat did little to keep the wind from piercing him. And yet, Ignis doesn’t mind. It’s an experience, he thinks, and he can’t be too far from his destination. He has wandered from the warm and tropical Kyushu Islands to the vast and mountainous Honshu Island, offering his skills and practices to anyone who needed him. He followed sources from town to village, port and metropolis, using his knowledge to aid those in trouble. He took a longship from Aomori to Hakodate, and spent the next several weeks traveling to what the merchants called The End of the World. 

“End of the World?” Ignis had to scoff at that. “The World never ends. It is connected, a vast circle with no broken link.” Of course, despite his vast knowledge and travels, Ignis has never actually  _ left _ Japan, but his tone and his reputation was enough for most merchants and scholars to agree with him. After all, he can see things that most humans cannot.

It is approaching dusk when he crests a great hill overlooking a cluster of longhouses, their great straw roofs burdened by heaps of snow. Candlelight flickers in each window, and to Ignis, using the occasional torchlight and moonlight, and the Light of the River, seeing a village is a welcome sight.

Through the wind whistling softly and the gentle rustle of the fir trees, Ignis hears the tell-tale crunch of boot under snow. He looks, and sees a torchlight approaching. A tall man in a faded black kimono approaches, his gait steadfast and unwavering. When his face comes into focus, it is a face hardened from years of work and harsh winters. A scar crosses his forehead, and Ignis thinks it looks interesting.

“Have you come for me?” Ignis asks as the man nears. “I’m Ignis Scientia, a Mushishi from Hyogo Prefecture.”

“The Mushi man from the mainland?” The man replies. “We’ve heard of you, and our lord sent a letter to a traveling courier to Sapporo. We didn’t think you would come.”

“A letter I didn’t receive, but I’ve heard stories of a curious malady afflicting the lord’s only son. Stories passed down from merchant to merchant. I followed them out of mere curiosity.”

The man grunts, his displeasure barely vocal as the snow mutes most sound. “Hearing about the young lord through stories? Anything unpleasant?” The man turns, as if expecting Ignis to follow him down the hill, and Ignis does, his descent slippery. 

“Unpleasant to some, to me, curious. I’ve only heard of this ailment from one other case in my readings,” Ignis takes in the sights of the village coming into focus, people rushing indoors to warm up by the cooking fires. In the distance, Ignis strains to listen to the faraway sounds of the ocean waves rustling in the wind. “So is this it? The ‘End of the World’?”

The man grunts again. “This is Nemuro, one of the last great villages by the sea. Beyond this village, is the great sea, and beyond that no one else knows except our lord. ‘End of the World’? Is there truly an end to the Earth?”

“I doubt it; there’s to be many lands across the great sea. Countless other species of mushi must wash up on the shore.”

“If there are any, I don’t see, nor hear about it. I’m Gladiolus Amicitia, by the way. I am one of the protectors of the lord and his family. Follow me, and I’ll take you to him.” It takes several minutes to navigate the silent village, and when Gladiolus stops in front of the largest longhouse in the center of the village, Ignis almost walks into him. A maid slides the door open, bathing the two men in a warm orange glow of the cooking fires inside. There is a bustle inside the longhouse as a group of men, dressed in black yukatas, file out past Ignis.

“Did I come at a time of mourning?” Ignis notices the black banners barely visible under the snow and darkness on the longhouses. “Did someone die?”

“No,” Gladiolus winces, a strange reply. “Not yet, I hope. The lord’s family is partial to black. A strong color, it is. You will find the lord’s color on every house and sign in the village.” He enters and Ignis follows him.

In the grand sitting room it is sparse with decorations, save for dried flowers and hunting spears hung up on the walls. Black tatami mats are gathered by a couple of servants, and at the head of the cookfires sits a middle-aged man, pouring tea in a cup. Ignis puts his traveling medicine box down in a corner as a maid offers a cushion for him to sit. He takes it as Gladiolus takes his leave, his giant form silent in the winter. With a muted  _ click _ , the door shuts, and Ignis is left alone with the village lord.

Said village lord bows in greeting, the crown of his head touching the floor. “I am Regis Lucis Caelum,” he starts. “The villagers here would call me a lord, but I am merely another in this town. It is good of you to come, I’ve heard stories of your skills.” The crackle of firewood and the sound of the wind outside are as faint as Regis’ voice.

“Your village is a lovely one; cosy and yet, as large as the ones in the South.”

“You must forgive me for having you come all this way. You must have endured the brutality of all the seasons.”

“It is nothing I’m not used to, though this is the most snow I’ve endured. But you didn’t summon me, I’ve heard stories of your village at The End of the World, and I followed the sources, merely. Your summoning is mere circumstance.”

Regis chuckles softly. “And what stories have you heard- Ignis, it was?” Ignis nods.

The Mushishi takes out a pipe, and stuffs mushi tobacco in it. “May I?” He asks, and Regis nods for him to continue. Ignis lights the tobacco with a match, and soft smoke puffs as he takes a drag. A light scent slowly fills the room and it makes Regis’ nose twitch.

“As a Mushishi, I attract mushi wherever I go. Most of it harmless, but I can never be too careful. This smoke keeps the mushi at bay.”

“I understand,” Regis sips his tea. A maid offers Ignis some, which he gladly takes. The first sip is sweet like dango and earthy; it pairs well with the smoke.

“I’ve heard stories of this village, how its villagers are losing their hearing. At first it was chalked up to the village being surrounded by mountains, and the mountains and the forests absorb most of the sound. It is a quiet village, no?”

“That it is. Though offering protection from invasion, it is almost eerily silent here, especially in winter. Words and whispers, and even the wind from the sea, can disappear.”

“And yet,” Ignis continues, “there are complaints and instances of villagers losing their hearing unexpectedly, no?”

“Yes, and it even affects my son.”

“So I’ve heard from the merchants.”

Regis frowns. “To think my son is the talk of gossip from other towns, it angers me.”

“Well, I’m here to help. You’ve had doctors examine the conditions of the villagers, and yet they found nothing.” Regis nods again. “And your son?”

Regis pauses. “There is nothing they could do,” he says finally. “Even I can tell, the most gifted healer in Hokkaido could not help my son. You must help him in any way you can. It’s… more than he can take.”

Ignis takes a long gulp of tea, its warmth spreading throughout his body. “Can I meet your son?” he asks.

“He may be asleep, and it will be difficult to wake him up. Perhaps in the morning. For now, if it’s no trouble, could you come with me to a villager’s house? He is afflicted with the loss of his hearing. His home is not too far away.” Regis stands up, his posture tall and proud. He walks with purpose, and Ignis can see why he is the leader of this village. Ignis follows him, grabbing his medicine box and following the lord out into the wintry night.

__

騒音

__

A man named Cor Leonis lives a ten minute walk from Regis’ longhouse. Like many of the villagers, Regis considers Cor a close friend. To this affliction that spreads throughout Nemuro, it affects Regis on a personal level; Ignis can tell in the man’s steely grey eyes. Cor easily allows Ignis to insert an examining tool into his right ear, and doesn’t move an inch when Ignis inspects his ear canal. There’s a bright green mucus faintly coating the walls of the ear like some web. Ignis clucks his tongue and asks for someone to fetch him some hot water and a towel. A young and overly eager man named Prompto, bolts to another room to boil some.

“I’ve seen this type of mucus before,” Ignis states, taking the tool out of Cor’s ear. Cor grunts and Regis repeats Ignis in Cor’s good ear. “A mushi dwells in your ear.”

“A Mushi?” Cor asks. “What’s that?”

“This one in particular is called an  う う ん,  eats all sound. They’re everywhere, mostly found in harbors. In the springtime they are most plentiful, but in the winter, where the snow swallows all sound, they find other places to find food. In this case, your ear.” Ignis looks up at the ceiling, and in the beams there is a nest of snail-like fungi in a corner. “Ah, what do we have here? A sizable colony. Competing for every morsel of sound to be had. There seemed to be plenty in this home, no? What with living with Prompto.” An exasperated  _ “hey” _ is faintly heard from the other room. Ignis reaches into the nest, and pulls out a tiny creature that rustles faintly in his grasp. The  う う ん glows faintly, and he shows it to Cor.

Cor frowns. “I thought it was just a host of snails,” he says. “We get those when it’s cold and wet.” The  う う ん suddenly unravel at once and vanish like tendrils of smoke.

“Where did they go?” Cor asks.

“Probably just moved to another place,” Ignis shrugs. “The smoke drives them away.”

“You say this  う う ん is in Cor’s ear,” Regis says. “Is it permanent? Will he be scarred for life?” Cor flinches, but Ignis sets things right.

“No,  う う ん  will eventually leave its host, and the hearing will return in time, but for a quick and permanent fix- ah yes, the water, thank you Prompto.” Prompto returns with a basin of steaming water, and Ignis rummages through his medicine box for a pouch of something powdery. He stirs in the powder until it has dissolved completely. “Do you have a tea kettle? I forgot to ask.”

“Of course, would you like some tea?” Prompto offers. Ignis shakes his head but smiles. “It’ll be easier to pour into his ear.” He tilts Cor’s head to the side, and gently pours the liquid into the man’s ear. Cor grunts, but remains still as stone. A few seconds pass, when a slimy, sluggish creature wriggles its way out of Cor’s ear. The man sputters and the slug plops onto Cor’s shoulder, only to fizzle and dissipate into smoke like the rest of the  う う ん.

“Urgh! What was that you just poured into my ear?” He demands. 

“Just a simple salt water solution,” Ignis replies, handing the kettle back to Prompto. “So?”

Realization dawns on Cor, and a rare smile cracks on his stern face. “My hearing! It’s back! You did it!”

“Luckily, it wasn’t so severe. Just cleanse your ears once a day with salt water for a week at least, you should be in the clear. Also, in the corners of the home, it should keep unwanted tenants away.” Ignis packs up his things and stands with Regis, who pats Prompto on the back [Prompto muttering, “you mean we could have just dunked Cor into the ocean and it would have saved the trouble?” Cor swats at Prompto’s head affectionately]. After another series of thanks, Ignis takes his leave with Regis back to the longhouse.

“To think a Mushishi uses simple common household tricks,” Regis chuckles. “Perhaps a simple fishwife is a Mushishi as well.”

“I’ve heard stories of that, but I can’t catch a fish to save my life,” Ignis says, his breath puffing in the air. They return to the longhouse, and Regis shows Ignis to a spare room for him to rest.

“Our work here is not yet finished. My son, his hearing…” Regis sighs, the creases in his skin deepening. “It’s more than his ears.”

“I don’t want to disturb him at this hour. Like you suggested, my lord, I can check on him in the morning. In the meantime, thank you for housing a stranger in your home.” Ignis bows before entering. Regis bows in return, before shuffling in the corridor, darkness swallowing his retreating form. 

Before Ignis slides his door shut, he sees a faint light peeking through the crack of the doorway. Someone’s in the room across.  _ The son _ ?  _ Shouldn’t he be asleep _ ? Ignis is curious, but not one to intrude on someone’s privacy. He slides the door shut, and goes to bed.

 

騒音

 

His stomach rouses him from his restful sleep; Ignis wakes up with a groan. Aside from gnawing on some dried fish and a handful of grains while traveling, Ignis hasn’t eaten much. A soft knock on the door catches his attention.

“Come in,” he answers, and the door opens to reveal a maid carrying a tray of food. “Oh, just what the doctor ordered.” He smiles at the maid.

“You must have not eaten since your journey,” she offers. “We feel bad not offering you a meal before setting you to work.”

“I hold no offense, my lord. It looks good. I’ll eat this well.” Grilled fish, rice, and root vegetables, and a generous amount. Ignis forgets himself as he eats with gusto.

“It’s good to see you eating well,” Regis enters as the maid excuses herself. “You must forgive me for not tending to your hunger sooner.”

“When I get to work, I forget my own needs. I won’t feel satisfied until I’ve done all that I can. The food is delicious.” The food is gone in a flash, and Ignis feels mildly embarrassed.

“So it was.” Regis sits on a tatami mat. “My son, should be awake. His condition hinders his ability to sleep well. It worries me.”

“It affects his ear?”

“ _ Both _ , to be frank. And, as he told me, gives him unbelievable suffering. My son has always been a quiet boy; only seeking friendship from Gladiolus and Prompto, but this affliction has hampered his abilities to communicate, move, speak clearly. It’s as if every movement is a great struggle against himself.” Regis bows to the floor. “Please, find a way to cure my son.”

Ignis rises to his feet and bows. “Let me take a look at your son, if I may.” Regis leads him across the corridor. He slides the door open, ushering in a faint beam of light into the darkness. A lump of blankets shudders.

“Noctis?” Regis whispers, so inaudible Ignis can't hear. “Are you able to get up?”

There is no answer for the longest time, until the lump of blankets opens up and a young man is revealed. His hair is dark as his robes, eyes watery, red-rimmed, but fail to hide intensity of his serene blue eyes; Ignis almost chokes at the color. His pallor reminds Ignis of paper, so much so Ignis wonders if the boy is a doll. But peeking through that curtain of black hair, small enough where it frames his face well enough, yet large enough to get attention, are a pair of horns.

“I’ve heard about this,” Ignis finds himself blurting out. Regis looks at him. “Only one case of this _ — _ in the Ogasawara Islands _ — _ faraway; I’ve never been there. A woman had horns growing from her head, and heard every sound from all the corners of the world. The noises had driven her into such despair, that her spirit grew weak, and she died after a year.” Regis draws a sharp breath. “How long? How long has he had horns?”

“Near six months. One day he was fine, the next-” another sharp breath. “He wailed like a babe in the beginning, then he tried to have us write notes to communicate, but even the sound of a brush against paper is torture to him. Putting a cloth over his horns does little to help.” Ignis rummages through his medicine box for his mortar and pestle, and when he finds it, sprinkles herbs into the pumice. An earthy and minty scent tingles their noses; Noctis’ face has the briefest glimpse of relief.

Ignis immediately grabs sheets folded in a corner. Ignoring Regis’ questions, he sets to work at making a basic canopy, ensnaring the three in a cosy embrace of blankets. Taking a dish from Noctis’ tray, he dumps the herbs onto it and lighting it with a match. A smoky haze slowly fills the canopy, that quiets all faraway noises. The bustle of maids working in the longhouse eventually disappear,  until the haze makes the air hanging around them feel like a void.

Noctis makes a gasp so sudden and fraught it sounds as if he breached the surface of the sea. His vibrant blue eyes dart around wildly, unfocused.

“Noct?” Regis asks, reaching out for his son. Noctis looks at his father, those eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Father,” he whispers, hoarse. “The noises, they’ve quietened.”

“What did you do?” Regis looks at Ignis, emotion clouding his face. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen him not in pain. What was it you lit?”

“A soothing smoke to distract the mushi. It creates a wall of silence that this mushi gorges on it. While not entirely gone, the sounds Noctis hears are quiet enough for him to have some relief.” Noctis wipes his eyes and he looks at Ignis; takes him in.

“Are you a doctor?” Noctis’ voice betrays his face; he sounds much older than he looks. “Do you know what they are? Is there a cure?”

“I’m a simple Mushishi from faraway. I travel Japan, giving my skills and advice to the curiosities the land offers. I’ve heard of your quiet village from others, and I’m here to help in any way I can. What you are inflicted with, is the ああ, a rare mushi that coexists with the ううん, and eats the silence that the ううん create. For reasons unknown, the one infected with ああ grow horns that act as amplifiers of sound of all mushi. The silence the ううん leave behind make the ああ insatiable.”

“Will a salt rinse help?” Regis asks. Noctis has taken to leaning into his father’s chest, and Regis cards his fingers through the black locks in a soothing rhythm.

Ignis shakes his head. “Unsure. From the account of the woman from Ogasawara, the salt solution fared no results. No symptom is alike, but I doubt that remedy would do much to save Noctis.” The young man’s eyes widen in fright and Ignis’ heart is seized in sadness. “But I promise I will do everything in my power to help you, Noctis. For now, even though you’ve only just awakened, you look like you need a peaceful night’s rest. You can stay in this canopy and sleep with minimal discomfort.”

“Thank you,” Noctis sags against his father, eyelids already drooping. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, and Ignis thinks there’s never been a more beautiful person in this entire country. To see a man suffer like this spurns him to push harder. In a quick movement he leaves the canopy and walks out the room, and after getting the attention of a maid, suggests that the maids all sprinkle salt in the corners of all the rooms. In the meantime he’ll look for う う ん  nests in the ceilings, and the hiding spots of the あ あ .

__

騒音

__

Noctis sleeps the rest of the day, and when the incense dies out and the canopy eventually airs out the smoke, he is rested enough to where he can tie a scarf around his horns. He says the sound of the spun silk scratching against his horns is agonizing, but he has built a tolerance to the noise, and the newfound strength from the rest has him walking for the first time in days. The snow ceases its falling, and the paths in the village are laden with a fresh blanket of frost. Ignis sloughs through it one day to reach the other villagers that have suffered from the  う う ん , the only sound in the silent village is his boots kicking up puffs of snow. He is preoccupied with tending to everyone with hearing loss until nightfall, so when he returns he is surprised to see Regis making his way out.

“You’re leaving at this hour my lord?” Ignis asks.

“Noctis felt well enough to go walk to the shore, but it has been several hours since he left. I will look for him with Cor, Gladiolus, and Prompto.”

“If it’s no trouble, if you point to me the direction of the shore, I can go find him. I need to get to the bottom of his affliction as soon as possible.”

“The shore is an hour’s walk from here, and you’ve been gone all day. You should rest.”

“It is no trouble. I’ve endured worse dangers. Just let me grab some things.” He slides past Regis into the longhouse, to Noctis’ room. He grabs a bedroll and blanket, and grabs his tent from his belongings.

“Do you mean to sleep outside in this weather?” Regis asks incredulously.

“It won’t snow tonight, so if we don’t make it in time, Noctis should be comfortable. I suppose there’s homes by the shore that would be happy to house him, I bet. But I can never be too careful.” Ignis heads back into the wintry night. “Don’t worry, my lord. I bet no one would harm your son.”

Regis sighs. “If you really want to go find him,” he relents finally. “The sea can be heard from here, even in this quiet season. Just take the road east, and it will take you to the ocean. I’d ought to have Gladiolus escort you, I really think-”

“It’s no trouble. The River of Light can guide me if I get lost. Please don’t worry my lord, I’ll find your son.” Ignis makes his way east before Regis can ask for more clarification.

The walk was less than an hour, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks growing louder by each step. The snow is sparse the closer he gets to the ocean. A small house sits on the hill, and an elderly man shuffles out of the house. He sees Ignis approaching and waves him closer.

“Here for Regis’ boy?” He calls.

“I’m a Mushishi helping the villagers. Regis was on his way to come look for Noctis. He’s with you?”

“Yeah, we found him at the shore, haulin’ in some catches. Kid’s got a knack for fishing. Wears a silly scarf around his head like some midwife, and won’t take it off.”

“He’s afflicted with something. I’m here to help him.”

“He’s not one for talking, and it looks like he’s in pain. Cindy is trying to have a conversation with him and he rarely answers. Were it not for him being sick I would have smacked some sense into him. C’mon in.” Ignis is let inside, and the home is cosy and warm, the wind from the sea powerless against the warmth. Noctis sits in a corner, furthest away from the light of the cookfires. A young woman in a yellow kimono smiles warmly at Ignis.

“We just ate, but there’s plenty more if you are hungry,” Cindy greets. “The lord’s son gave us plenty of fish, and in return he’ll stay tonight as it’s getting late.” Noctis looks overwhelmed, rubs at where his horns are hidden.

“I would love to stay, and the food smells delicious, but his father is looking for him. Noctis looks like he needs to be in bed.”

“And an hour’s trek in the dark is going to help?” The old man shoots back. “So he’ll sleep here. Ain’t nothing wrong with some sleep. It’ll be mighty cramped, though.”

“If you insist, but I must treat Noctis.” Ignis crouches down in front of Noctis. The young man, who was drifting off into a listless state, staring at nothing, snapped into focus at Ignis’ presence.

“The Mushishi from afar,” Noctis whispers, his voice straining.

“You need a peaceful night’s rest. There’s barely any room for me to set up an enclosed space here. Do you want to come outside? I’ll build a fire for warmth.”

“You’re going to use the soothing smoke?” Noctis sounds hopeful.

“I’ve brought my tent. Small, yes, but I can make the incense.” Noctis stands with some difficulty, but he is determined to go outside.

“We’ll be back; we’re just going outside.” Ignis ushers Noctis outside. The wind has died down; the waves below spraying a salty mist that barely reach them. Ignis immediately sets to work setting up the tent, while Noctis grabs at spare pieces of driftwood. He has a sizable bundle by the time Ignis has the tent up and has the incense lit to make the smoke. Noctis all but dives into the tent flap, audibly sighing in relief. 

“I thought my head was due to explode from all the sound,” Noctis sounds drained. “I’m glad it was you who sent for me, you…”

“My name is Ignis Scientia. I’m here to figure out exactly how you came in contact with the, if you can remember, Noctis.” Ignis’ voice is low and calm, and in the haze, it’s soothing. Noctis takes off the scarf and his horns stick out through his sweaty black locks. “May I touch them?” Noctis nods. Even though Ignis’ touch is soft; fingertips barely stroking the horns, Noctis hisses. Ignis recoils, stricken.

“Sorry, it’s just, they’re sensitive.”

“They’re soft, like parts of flesh. Is the smoke helping?”

“Yes, it is. Thank you. It’s soothing.”

“Why did you come out all this way? You could have been hurt.”

“No one in the village would dare harm me, and I have been indoors for months. I miss the sea. I fish, if old man Cid didn’t tell you. It’s relaxing.”

“By the time we get back, your father will be furious.”

“I’ll tell him I’m with Cid, and you heard the old man, it’s too late to go back. First thing in the morning.” Ignis nods and walks out of the tent, setting up a small fire.

“The more I listen to the sounds, the more I’m convinced they’re not human.” Noctis says. “I can barely hear the voices of others; I take to reading people’s lips. But the noise, it gets so bad, I lose focus. Through the weird glowing shapes, I see ripples of sound. It distorts my vision.”

“Weird glowing shapes?”

“Some look like fish, others like animals, some I can’t describe. I tried to tell father, but I don’t want to upset him further. It’s hard to understand. When you came, the shapes increased, as did the sounds. I could barely move.”

“Sorry about that. I attract mushi wherever I go. It seems you can see them too.”

“What does that mean?” Noctis moves closer to the fire. The wall of smoke drifts slowly into the night air, and it’s enough to keep the sounds at bay.

“You hear the sounds of all mushi in the land. Standalone, the mushi don’t make much sound, but when they come together, conversing, if you will, it’s the sounds of millions of mushi. A million tiny voices, and you hear them all at once. Those horns are tuned to them. I haven’t been able to find any  あ あ  around; your home doesn’t even have nests  う う ん of in the ceilings. But, how did you get these horns?”

Noctis looks at Ignis, looks right through him. “You’re an interesting man,” he says finally. “Your eyes-”

“What about them?”

“They’re green. What of it. Yours are blue, like the sea meeting the night sky.” Noctis blushes, but continues staring.

“Your left eye, looks off.” Noctis looks closer. “It’s not a real one, isn’t it?”

Ignis pauses. “It’s not,” he admits. “It’s glass.” He turns away for a moment, his hand to his eye, and when he looks back, his glass eye is in his palm. Usually that trick would scare children or make adults wary; Noctis inspects the glass orb, and then looks at the void in Ignis’ face. Doesn’t say a word.

“How’d you lose your eye?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Are you saying that because it’s an embarrassing admission?”

“No, I really don’t remember. I don’t… I don’t even know  _ if _ I’m actually from Hyogo Prefecture.”

“There’s no home for you?”

“Mushishi are prone to wander. I don’t visit the same town more than once. I just say Hyogo Prefecture because ‘I have no home’ is disheartening.” Ignis puts the glass eye back in his socket, shudders as the cold glass is enveloped in his body heat. “Now, the horns. How’d they come to be?”

“I don’t remember much, I was at home, on a quiet night like this, and I just, put my hands over my ears, like so.” Noctis covers his ears with his hands. “And they just grew, like this. And the noises came instantly. A neverending tidal wave of sound.” Noctis stands, looking straight into the ocean. He winces as the smoke is weak when he stands, but he looks on. “But, even throughout the sound of the mushi, I can still hear the sound of the sea. The push of the waves as it crashes to the earth with a mighty roar, and when the tide pulls back, it’s quiet.  あうん の きょく . It’s a soothing sound; I almost yearn for the noise of the waves.”

“When a human being is infected with the , and after coexisting with it for so long, you’ll start to be dependent on the noises. That woman from Ogasawara, it is said that the noises suddenly stopped, before she died, said the noises were gone. And the strange thing, was that she  _ missed _ them. That all the silence in the world came up to her and seized her entire body, thus breaking her spirit.”

“When the waves pull back, just for the briefest second, I feel like all the sounds go with it, and I feel so—  _ lost _ . But the feeling is gone before I can accurately describe it. It happens when the waves pull back…” Noctis’ voice dies, looks up at the starry night sky. The firelight dances on his face, makes him look older than he is.

“You ever feel like you want a home?” Noctis asks. Ignis is surprised at the question.

“A home?”

“Someplace to come home to, even when you have traveled all of Japan, there is somewhere you can always go back to, and someone to welcome you into a loving embrace?”

Ignis pauses. That sort of luxury always seemed so unobtainable, so out of his reach that he feels that shouldn’t be what he wants; needs. He’s been traveling this country for so long and never staying in one place, that if he stays still, he’ll go mad.

“No,” he answers after a long while. “I don’t know if I do.”

“Have you tried it? Having someone to care about? Tried to go back to a village that warmed up to you?” Ignis shakes his head. Noctis stares down at him. He crawls back into the smoky tent, beckoning for Ignis to come back in.

“After all this,” Noctis says after a pregnant pause. “I can ask my father to make you a citizen of this village. All are welcome, so long as you be good to everyone. And you have helped so many of the folk here, and are working tirelessly to help me. You can come and go, but this place, Nemuro can be your home.”

“Noctis—”

“Call me Noct.”

“Noct, I’m just focusing on curing you, and when that’s done, I’ll be on my way, following another curiosity. I most likely won’t be back.”

“This could still be your home.” Ignis blinks at him. “You say you attract mushi wherever you go. I see them, hear them, and aside from the  あ あ , I’m doing just fine. You could stay with us.”

“Why are you so interested in keeping me here?” And in the dimness of the tent, the hazy unfocused air, Ignis can see color tint Noctis’ cheeks.

“Because I like you.” Noctis answers. His horns twitch. It is silent in the tent; even the sound of the waves are heard over the heavy smoke of silence.

“It’s getting late,” Ignis remarks after a while. “You should head back to Cid’s house.”

“I want to enjoy this peace a while longer.” Noctis curls into a small corner, eyelids drooping. “Wake me when you want to move.” He falls asleep soon after that.

Ignis doesn’t wake him, he puts his coat over Noctis, and leans over to share his warmth. He finds himself nodding off, the waves lulling him to sleep.

When he awakes, the incense has worn off, and the sun is rising. The fire has died down to smoldering embers and Noctis is still asleep. Ignis rouses the young man awake and quickly sets to packing up the tent. Without a word shared (but flushed glances are exchanged), they set off as Noctis ties the scarf over his horns again, and it is only when they are in sights of the longhouse again when the stiff cold is worked out of their bodies. Regis looks as if he stayed up all night, but he would have heard if anything we to befall Noctis. Seeing his son alive and whole, he sends his son off to the warm comforts of his room. He corners Ignis as he returns to his quarters.

“What were you two doing that caused you two to be gone all night?” He asks.

“We tried freezing the horns off,” Ignis’ lie is quick on his tongue. “Didn’t work. Onto another solution.”

 

騒音

__

Noctis has wandered off again.

It’s been a week since they camped out at Cid’s, and aside from inquiries on Noctis’ horns, other tests run, and Ignis helping the other villagers with common maladies, no change has been made in Noctis’ condition. Ignis feels like he’s failed Regis, that no trick or secret knowledge he has up his sleeve seems to be working. Noctis has taken to falling asleep with his hands shielding his ears, sometimes his horns, as if the incense is not enough to shield the sounds of the mushi he seems to attract. Noctis looks out the window his room, yearning to see what’s beyond the forest and the mountains. Regis chides him, threatening to have him tied to the bed if he makes an escape. When Ignis returns to the longhouse one day after attending an errand for Cindy, Gladiolus is stopping him.

“You feel like being part of a search party?” Gladiolus asks.

“What’s going on?”

“Noct has gone missing. The tracks lead to multiple directions. Cor and Prompto are already searching.”

“I just came from the shore, and I didn’t see him, but I will look for him.”

“Lord Regis is off in the woods with my father, and I’m to join them. Unless you need assistance?”

“No, Cor and Prompto are combing the seashore, and the lord and others are searching the forests. It is a vast and uncharted territory. The more eyes the better.” Ignis turns on his heel, heading west towards the outskirts of the village. He asks villagers if they’ve seen Noctis, and all reports tell him he’s gone off to the mountains, or the sea, or to the caves. They all conflict, so Ignis just tries to follow tracks he tries to recognize as Noctis’. The small prints of feet sinking into the snow, and the delicate drag of a kimono and coat against the snowfall. Ignis hopes its Noctis. Nemuro isn’t large, but Ignis still doesn’t know his way around it; Noctis could be anywhere.

There’s a small lake by the foot of the mountains that separate Nemuro from the rest of Hokkaido. It’s surrounded by a healthy copse of trees laden with snow. The lake is crystal clear and serene, its surface unmarred by ripples in the snow. A small fire is set underneath a pine tree, and sitting by the fire is Noctis. He is huddling close to it, shivering slightly. Since there’s no incense to muffle the noise of all the mushi, Noctis can’t hear Ignis approach. He looks up by mere chance when Ignis is close, offering a small, strained smile.

“I’m glad it’s you who found me,” Noctis whispers. “I got so frustrated being cooped up in the house again; the noises were getting worse. I thought, I’d drown the noises out in the snow, and for the briefest moment I could have some peace. I figured, with enough snow, it can silence the earth, so maybe I could....” His whisper falls into silence, but his mouth keeps moving.

Ignis starts. ‘Where is his voice going?’ He looks at the tiny spitting fire, noticing how even that is tapering off into silence. It seems, even the still air, the sounds of the forest and village are dying into a void. What’s happening? Ignis looks up into the tree boughs.

A giant colony of  う う ん hang heavily in the branches, an eerie glow illuminating the pines. They slowly encroach Noctis’ silent form, threatening to consume him. “No!” Ignis reaches out to stop them. Noctis looks up, sees the colony, and silently gasps. The  う う ん  focus their attention on Ignis, swarming him in blinding speed. With the mushi tobacco, they don’t dare enter his ears, but they prod at his skin, his glasses, his glass eyeball.

“Yes, I make tons of noise, and you’re enticed, huh?” Ignis pushes through the colony, looking for something that stands out. “ う う ん swirl clockwise, like a snail, so  あ あ  are counter-clockwise, no?” Training his eye, Ignis looks into the glowing mess, and finds his prize. “Ah, there you are.” He pries the  あ あ from the branch, and it rattles in his grasp. It unravels, snakelike, and darts to Noctis, who is too slow to shield his ears. The  あ あ  wriggles its way into Noctis’ ear canal, joining with the other in his body. Noctis mutely howls in pain and the  う う ん  are in a frenzy at the noise. In a panic, Ignis puts Noctis’ hands over his ears, and covers his hands with his own.

“Focus on the noise, Noct!” Noctis cries, his voice dying in short gasps. His eyes are unfocused as he tries to tune in what noise Ignis is insisting he hears.

“The noise of your body! The sounds of your muscles moving in your wrists! Focus on that! It sounds like a distant rumbling, of the sea, of the River of Light, of lava. It’s in your body Noct, just  _ focus _ .” He hopes Noctis can read his lips, and when Noctis shuts his eyes tight, screwing his face in concentration.

What feels like forever, is only several moments. The sound of rumbling against Noctis’ ears has the  あ あ in his ears eventually popping, if the sudden gooey mess that falls from his ears is anything to go by. Noctis gasps as the  う う ん  colony dissipate further into the forest, faraway. The ooze seeps down into the snow in a sizzle, the fire resumes its crackling, and Ignis parts from Noctis as he sits up, shaking the snow from his hair and wiping the goo onto the snow, almost missing the way his horns fall off into a small pile in the snow.

Ignis blinks at the sight. Noctis, with four symmetrical circles bruising his forehead, the horns, in the snow. Noctis, gaping like a fish as the silence and the sound are focused, and he can  _ hear _ .

“I,  _ I can hear _ ,” Tears spring up into Noctis’ eyes. “I didn’t think I’d remember the sound of winter anymore. It’s so…  _ jarring _ , and I can hear my heartbeat, and I can see the mushi, but I can’t hear them, and I feel so hollow and yet so alive and I-” Noctis is quieted by Ignis pulling him into an embrace, and placing a small kiss into his hair. They focus on the sounds of their racing heartbeats, and the sound of the snow falling in clumps from the tree branches.

 

騒音

__

It is the tail-end of winter when Ignis eventually sets off from Nemuro. In that time, there have been no reported cases of hearing loss or horns being grown, but Ignis earns his keep by doing odd errands for the villagers. Normally, he would have collected his fee and set off back South, but at Regis and Noctis’ insistence, they have him wait out the winter until it’s easier to travel in. Ignis felt something between him and Noctis grow, and much as he tried to deny it, there they were. Noctis knows it, Prompto and Gladiolus picked up on it, even Regis could tell, if the stern look he gave when they shared glances at each other was anything to go by.

When Ignis collects his belongings and gets ready to leave, he take the small pillbox of Noctis’ horns as payment. “Is that sufficient, Ignis?” Regis asks. “Perhaps you could travel with a cart of supplies, or some coin at least.”

“This is more than enough, thank you. I’ll be off. Thank you for housing me in this wintry season.”

“Thank you for curing the villagers and my dear son.” Regis bows. “You are always welcome in this village.”

“Thank you, my lord. Now, I must be off. Tell Noctis that he may yearn for the sounds of the  あ あ , but to never go looking for them.”

“Why don’t you tell him that yourself?” Regis shifts Ignis’ attention to what’s behind him.

Noctis stands with a laden pack and dressed for travel. Prompto stands with him, as if he’s ready to say goodbye.

“What’s this?” Ignis asks.

“Noct has been insistent on seeing the world. As he is my only son and heir, I was reluctant to have him leave the village. Everything he could want is here. But he is a man grown, despite his age, and he tells me he sees what you see. Whatever that means, but it all boils down to that Noct wants to go with you.”

“Eh?”

“You have saved his life, and now he wants to go with you. And don’t deny yourself, Ignis, I’ve seen how you allowed Noct to cling to your every word and follow you around. He was immediately taken to you. Whatever wishes my son has, I want to honor them.” Noctis and Prompto approach Ignis.

“I’m not coming with,” Prompto interjects before Noctis can say a word. Noctis punches his arm.

“You, want to leave the village?” Ignis looks at Noctis, takes him in. He has changed from a frail, fraught young man to a hale and strong being, confident and eager to explore.

Noctis shakes his head. “I want to leave the village with  _ you _ ,” he corrects. “If you’ll allow me, I want to be by your side.”

“This is unexpected…” Ignis can’t find any words to say. For once, he is speechless. “It’s not an easy life.”

“That I know, but I want to live it with you.”

“This time we have spent together has been wonderful, no doubt, and I believe you, but, do you want to experience the harshness of this world? You’ll be leaving behind family, friends, and there’s no guarantee you’ll come back.”

“I know, I know,  _ I know _ . You think I didn’t discuss this with father?” Noctis leans to kiss Ignis on the cheek, and doesn’t miss the way Regis coughs and Prompto whistles. “I want the see the land with you, explore with you, learn with you, be guided by the Light of the River with you, suffer all the hardships with you. If you’ll allow me, I want to be with you, Ignis.”

Ignis can’t deny the way his name sounds on Noctis’ lips, if the  う う ん  were to come and seize that sound from him, he’d burn the whole forest down. His heart tugs at the thought of Noctis willing to travel the whole of Japan with him. Being able to pass his knowledge of mushi to someone who can see it, recognize that it’s there, thrills him. And even so, just knowing that someone cares about him stirs something within him.

“Well then,” Ignis boldly takes Noctis’ hand and kisses his wrist, feeling the faint rumbling of his muscles in the arm. “Let’s be off, if it please you.”

“Go before Gladio comes to drag you back Noct!” Prompto cheers. Noctis beams, a smile so good and pure that Ignis’ heart seizes again, and leads the way. 

Their footprints are quickly covered by the falling snow, and the sound of their voices are swallowed by the forest and the mountains. When Noctis crosses the point where Nemuro is no longer able to be spotted from the forests, he doesn’t look back. He takes Ignis’ hand, and takes another step.

 

**Author's Note:**

> holy fucking shit I finally did it. after trying to actually write the prompts kira actually wanted, and then realizing, hey you can't write, so just try for comedy. and when that didn't work, I went okay let's just abandon their wishes and at least try and finish something. Still, it's... not good, but I wanted something lengthy for them to read for a good bit, not some blurp. I missed the Japan deadline, and I'm so sorry. Work, a crumbling person, and depression just ate at me. The death of Jonghyun has ruined me and I can't stop crying every two hours. I wished I finished this earlier but I'm glad it's done in time for Christmas. Frohe Weihnachten! Thank you for doing this! I hope to do more secret santas or other ignoct week things but knowing my work ethic this is probably my only contribution. shit. um, Merry Crisis.


End file.
